


Away in the Night

by orphan_account



Series: Selkie Castiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Castiel in Dresses, Castiel in Panties, Chubby Castiel, Crossdressing Kink, Dean Has Magic, Finfolk dean, King Dean, M/M, Selkie Castiel, Top Dean, Virgin Castiel, not an accurate representation of folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, a selkie, is captured and sold to Prince Michael to be his bride. He is resigned to his new life trapped away from his home at sea, until he meets Dean Winchester at a ball, a mysterious stranger who is so much more than he appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Away in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't know, selkies are creatures that can transform between human and seal forms by using a special skin. Finfolk are powerful sea creatures that can shapeshift and are often known to drown sailors. (This may or may not have actual separate paragraphs. I don't have access to a computer, so i have no idea how it looks. Sorry)

Castiel skimmed just below the surface of the water, watching with distaste as a group of fisherman settled down on the beach. Humans rarely wandered into this close, preferring to stay in the charted, less rocky areas. That was why he had volunteered to patrol this section of coastline in the first place, so he could avoid humans. But now, there was a whole group of them, throwing trash into the sea and scaring away his prey with their unnecessary noise. He didn't need to eat soon himself, but he could make a trip to the main caverns and give an extra treat of squid to the pups. Besides, maybe it would keep the rest of the humans away if he gave them a warning.  
He kept out of sight, monitoring them from beneath the surface. He needed to report the sudden human activity to the herd leaders, but if he waited long enough, he might be able to steal some of the fisherman's catch, Castiel thought, deciding it was worth the risk. He waited until the men had gone to bed and the campfires were burning low before slinking up onto the rocks, alert and ready to dive back into the waves. When the night remained silent and still, he cautiously slid off his sealskin, stepping further onto the beach, his trench coat-what his skin was disguised as-folded carefully on the rocks. The moonlight glistened on the slick stones as he crept towards the buckets of fish, focused almost entirely on the regular breathing of the men. He paused, however, at a small pool of water, taking in his reflection. It had been a while since he had used his human form, but his features were familiar nonetheless: the tan skin from hours of laying in the sun; the black hair that was that was longer and messier than the short fur that decorated his seal form; and his blue eyes, an oddity that made him easily recognizable. He was pudgy, with strong thighs, the perfect evidence of his life swimming in freezing waters. It was rare to find any selkie who was skinny, as keeping warm was vital to their survival. A round belly was a sign of health and prosperity, and he'd never understood the strange way humans viewed weight, as it had much less of an effect on their health than other creatures.  
    Leaving the water and transforming was dangerous enough, much less with humans around. He'd heard the stories of selkies like him who had been tricked by men into giving their skins up, and were trapped on land forever. If a selkie was caught, the same magic that allowed them to swim through the water as a seal, then run on land as a human in the next moment, bound them to their captors. They had to stay with them for the rest of their lives, and were unable to touch their skins again unless given permission by a human. That was why his herd had moved so far away from the kingdoms of the land, to preserve their ability to lead their own lives. Now that solitude and safety was being challenged. He reached the tubs of  fish, his mouth watering slightly. There was plenty, and so Castiel might as well take a little for himself, right? He grabbed a handful of small fish, gulping them down quickly, before taking another to bring back to the herd.  
    He began quickly sneaking back across the campsite, but froze at the sound of movement within one of that small tents. He turned towards the sound, before standing perfectly still as someone shifted inside the structure , grumbling indistinctly, before settling down again. He let go of the breath he'd been holding, stepping back while keeping his eyes on the tent. Unfortunately, he walked backwards directly into another tent, and onto one fisherman's hand. He jumped when the man yelped in pain, waking up all of the others and sending them into a panic. Castiel backed up again, panicking as lanterns flicked on from inside the tents and the men shouted. He was trapped in the center of the circle, exposed without any clothes or weapons to protect him as the fishers surrounded him, leering in the dim light.  
    "Hey! Look what I found! We might just have ourselves a selkie!" One of the men called, holding up his trench coat, and his heart started racing even faster. How was he going to get his skin back and into the water? He snarled, trying to intimidate or distract the men circling him. Then, lightning fast, he lunged towards a man to his right, shoving past him and towards the surf, but he tripped, his legs unsteady and weak from lack of use. He crashed to the ground, hands and knees tearing on the jagged rocks. He cursed, trying desperately to stand up again, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but a net was thrown over him. He struggled against the ropes as the men jeered, cursing them as the net was lifted up with him in it.  This couldn't be happening. No, no, no, no, no!  He thought, cold fear gripping at his insides. He was going to be killed for his skin, or trapped in a zoo, or sold to be the pet of some human. To make things even worse, now they would know that there were selkies in the area, and they'd come looking for the rest of his herd. He'd been greedy and ambitious and now he was paying for it. The realization slowed him down, and he suddenly didn't have the energy to fight anymore as he went slack and listened to the fishers discuss what they were going to do with him. They tossed him into a worn down carriage, and, after what felt like hours of staring at the changing scenery from where he was held immobile, he was dragged into an uneasy sleep, thinking of his friends and family that might now be in danger because of him.  
He woke to the sound of humans talking, and saw the fishers speaking to a pair of very well dressed men. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but saw them looking him over. He managed to hiss weakly, trying to uphold his defiance even though the cuts on his arms and legs stung bitterly and fear pulled at his heart. The fisherman nodded, and the other humans handed him a considerable amount of money. He was again lifted up and hauled away, this time by the official-looking humans. He thrashed violently, and his feet collided with one man's head. The man staggered and dropped him, and he landed heavily on the ground. Another well dressed woman approached him, and despite his attempts to, he could not escape her reach from inside the net. She pricked him with a small needle, and he spat at her. He was lurched back into the air, and he tried to see where he was going, but the world began blurring, and he passed out.  
When he returned to consciousness, he was being held up by his arms, cool tile under his feet and loud chatter all around. He squinted, trying to make out the scene around him through the pounding in his head. The formal humans who carried him were now holding him up, and there were similarity dressed ones off to both sides. Directly in front of him was tall, lean man with black hair and serious eyes, who stared down at him with disinterest.  
"Prince Michael, this creature is a selkie. They are very rare, and many would pay a high price to obtain one. Having one would be seen as a sign of wealth and power, as they are nearly extinct," Explained a woman with red hair, who spoke in a business-like tone and held herself with very good posture. The prince seemed to take in interest in that, Castiel noted, watching him lean forward in his chair slightly. One of his advisors crept towards him, whispering in his ear, and Michael nodded.  
"Very well. Could it be taught to behave like a human?" He asked, looking quite bored. Castiel bit back a snarl the words, offended. It? He was no it! He took a deep breath, ran his tongue over his teeth, and began to speak.  
"Excuse me, but my name is Castiel, and I am already very capable of behaving like a human," His voice was rough and quiet from rarely being used, but it was enough to make the entire room freeze. "And I'm more intelligent than a lot of the humans I've encountered. Could I please go?" He finished, hoping that it would be enough to at least allow the prince to have mercy on him. He knew that, if he wasn't married off to some human, he would most likely be killed for the magick of his skin. His best hope was to be polite, and show them that he was just as civilized as they were, and they might release him. Without his skin, he was completely trapped on land. The humans looked around at each other in surprise at his words, and Prince Michael seemed to come to a decision.   
"You said he was valuable?" He asked the red haired woman, who nodded. "You're very lucky, Castiel. It just so happens that I was searching for a bride. If you were to become my wife, you would be able to live a life of luxury, and your life would be spared. You would never have to worry about any dangers ever again, and word of you as my bride would spread throughout the kingdom. We would both benefit greatly from this deal," He explained, and Castiel decided that humans had a strange idea of lucky. He didn't want to be trapped in this castle or shown off for the prince's benefit. He did not dare speak out, however. The wrong words could easily cost him his life. Instead he chose to say nothing, going limp as Michael ordered that the news of the marriage was to be spread throughout the kingdom, and told the guards to take him to his new quarters. He let himself be dragged almost completely out of the grand throne room, his eyes on his skin the whole time, before he felt one of the humans loosen his grip on his arm. He took the chance, knowing it would be his last hope of escape. He jerked himself free and sprinted towards the trench coat, but his fingers had barely grazed the fabric when he was was grabbed again and pulled away. He struggled against the guards, twisting and kicking, but it was no use. The prince told the redheaded woman to take the skin to his own bedroom, so that he did not try to escape again. Castiel watched, forlorn, as it was carried out of sight, taking his any chance of regaining his freedom with it.

The wedding would come in two months, Castiel was told. In that time, he would would be taught all the rules that humans considered so important. The list of things he learned  just within a month seemed to stretch on and on: how to hold his silverware properly, to sit straight with his hands folded carefully in his lap, how to introduce himself, what words not to say, and so much more. He wore clothes besides his trench coat for the first time in his life, and discovered that he quite liked the soft, frilly dresses that were provided for him, as well as the human food that was so much more varied than what he was used to. His favorite thing to learn, though, was how to read and write. He was a fast learner, and was able to write out complicated sentences after only a few lessons. On the other hand, he grew to hate the way that the nobleman talked about him like he couldn't hear, as though he were some wild beast to be tamed or lovely prize to show off. To make things worse, the sea had him in her grasp, pulling and tugging him back to her. He remembered the stories of the selkie woman who, after years on land, had returned to the ocean without their skins. They drowned to get back to their home, leaving behind the children their captors had forced upon them. He feared that the pull would soon claim him as well, so he hardly left his room except for meals. It was decorated lavishly, with a large canopy bed, accented with deep purple and gold to match the walls, and it was full of comforts he'd never known. His favorite was the luxurious, puffy blanket he loved to wrap himself up in while he looked out the window and watched the sky.  
He was curled up in it, reading a book that a servant had brought him from the library, when he was told there would be a ball that night, in celebration of his marriage to the prince he'd only seen once. Michael was almost always wrapped up in the affairs of the kingdom and often away, which Castiel secretly enjoyed. When he was all alone in his room, he could pretend that he was to return to the sea the very next day. He may have become accustomed to the unchanging life of the castle, but that did not mean he was looking forward to his new task of being a wife. While he didn't understand the way humans let sex dictate their place in life, he knew that, though he was male, he was to be treated as a princess. According to Naomi, Michael's advisor, that meant he would be shown off to visiting royalty as some kind of treasure, tend to the whims of his husband without question, and not much else. He wondered, as a servant laced up the complicated back of the dress he'd been given for the ball, if he would spend the rest of his life occasionally being paraded in front of awed guests, and then returned to his bedroom to sit quietly. The thought of living like that had driven him to wonder if he could persuade one of the servants to let him search for his sealskin, but such thoughts were quickly discouraged by a letter from the prince. He reminded him that all of his servants were incredibly loyal, and none of them would dare help in his escape. Even if they did, Michael made it very clear that the whole castle was patrolled by guards, and that it was miles and miles away from the sea, so leaving was impossible. Finally, minutes before the party, he sat on his bed, playing with the hem of his dress while trying desperately to ignore the crash of imagined, waves that called to him.  
The gown was beautiful, he thought, a deep blue, floor length dress with gold lace that accented the neckline. The skirt was wonderfully puffy, and when he spun, it fluffed up even more around the white tights he wore. He slipped on the heels that went with it, thankful that he'd had many lessons on how to walk in them without falling over. While he did love to wear the extravagant clothes, he was much less fond of the idea of actually attending the ball. Michael was to escort him into the ballroom, and it was the first glimpse anyone outside the castle would have of him. He had to fight his own instincts to scratch at the walls in a ridiculous attempt to escape at the thought. He'd never liked crowds, and had avoided the yearly mating throngs that gathered on the beach. To make matters worse, he'd quickly discovered that he was not very attractive in the opinion of most humans. The people idolized for their beauty would be, more often than not, considered unhealthy by selkie standards. He knew that human's health was much less dictated by their weight,  which only made their standards even more ridiculous in his eyes. Regardless, the servants made snide comments about the stretch marks on his thighs and belly as they did up his clothes as though he couldn't hear them, and he could already feel the judgemental stares of the royalty on him. Despite his fear, the thought of attempting to resist was even worse. If Castiel stepped out of line, Michael would punish him, or worse, burn his skin. A selkie whose skin was burned would never be able to return to their seal form, and would go through terrible pain in the process, and he couldn't risk that. Michael had taunted him by informing Castiel that the skin was kept in the prince's room, knowing full well he was unable to use it without permission. He was determined to keep the tiny chance of escape that his skin provided, and if that meant holding his tongue and being displayed like a prize, then he would have to bear it.  
He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, and the guard assigned to watch his door for the night poked her head in, announcing that it was time for Michael to introduce him. He allowed himself to be led out of his bedroom and to where the prince waited. He even let the man link arms with him, and forced a smile as they walked down the sprawling golden steps leading down into the ballroom. It was full of guests dressed in the finest clothes: simple, elegant suits, paired with dark hats, or elaborate, fanciful dresses in a rainbow of colors. At the sight of the contrasted crowd staring up at them, the first thing Castiel thought was that they looked like the strange, exotic birds he'd read about in human books. He walked carefully, the weight of their eyes heavy on his skin. Finally, after a moment of silence when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the crowd turned away from him and started talking enthusiastically amongst themselves, and he let out a sigh of relief at no longer being the center of attention.  
As the party progressed, Castiel was able to slip into the background once more, resigning himself to sitting quietly in the corner and watching the nobles dance. He distractedly nibbled at the chocolate covered strawberries he'd grown fond of, caught up in the way one maiden's seafoam dress moved as her suitor spun her around, making it look like the crash of waves on the beach. It reminded him of his home, of the immense beauty and magic of the sea: the feel of smooth sand beneath his feet and the hush of the water surrounding him as he dived; the deep, dark trenches that he hardly dared to swim above, concealing countless creatures and mysteries; the underwater cavern that he had made his home, filled with the little trinkets he'd collected over the years, bottle caps and old watches and patches of worn down clothes; what he missed most, though, were the other selkies, he recalled, still watching the swirl of the dress. While he had lived only with Gabriel, his brother, their cave was just a short distance away from the main caverns, a system of tunnels and grottoes which were occupied by the rest of their herd. Even though he'd avoided the main caves most of the time, there had always been something comforting about the bustle of everyone trading and gossipping, occasional groups of pups trailing after their tired mothers that greeted him when he did visit. A wave of homesickness hit Castiel, and he curled into a ball on the expensive couch, the beautiful ballroom and masses of people making him feel tiny and lonely in a way that the empty, infinite ocean never had.  
"You alright?" Asked a voice, and he shot up, looking around for the speaker before seeing a young man by his side, his expression slightly concerned. He was immediately struck by his attractiveness, with a strong jaw, blond-brown hair, and blazing green eyes. He wore a simple blue shirt, with a worn-down green jacket, and a plain pair of pants, and though they were surprisingly casual clothes compared to the tasteful gowns and suits around them, they fit his tall frame well and made him even more alluring. A flash of silver caught his eye, and he realized the man was wearing small, raindrop-shaped silver earrings, as well as a few silver bracelets on each hand. Castiel remembered that staring was impolite, and quickly looked away again before responding.  
"I'm fine. Just not used to this much commotion," He explained, not quite sure what to make of this stranger taking an interest in him.  
"I heard you were a selkie. This must all seem so weird to you, huh?" He said, a small smile quirking his lips. He nodded, thinking as the stranger sat down beside him. Humans were strange, but not all of them were as dislikable as he'd thought, though they put too much value in the way others saw them.  
"I'm Dean Winchester," the man said, pulling him from his thoughts and offering his hand. He took it after a moment of confusion, remembering that it was a gesture of greeting.  
"Castiel," He responded, distracted by the man's hand gripping his own. It had sent a wave of sensation up his hand, feeling like the ocean itself: restrained power and magic, all swirling in one place. Dean pulled his hand back quickly, seeming to realize what had happened. "W-what brings you here, Dean?" He asked, trying to change the subject and ignore the way the rush had left him slightly breathless and dizzy.  
"I'm here on a mission for my kingdom," He said, looking quite proud of himself. "We wanted to establish better relations, and what better way to do it than a ball?" Castiel soon found himself pulled into the conversation, talking comfortably with Dean as the night wore on. They spoke mostly of himself, as the other man seemed quite curious about selkies. He ended up admitting that he had been forced to live here, which Dean didn't seem surprised about, though he did make it clear how unfair he thought the situation was. He did not reveal much about himself, to the selkie's great disappointment, as he found himself even more drawn into the man by the mystery that surrounded him. He did learn, however, that Dean was a king, but he wouldn't say what kingdom he ruled or where it was. He was in the middle of eagerly pushing Dean to give him more information when he heard someone clear their throat behind him, and turned to see Michael. The prince somehow managed to look aggravated and composed at the same time, and Castiel suddenly realized just how close he and Dean had gotten during their conversation, the man's hand resting on his knee as they faced each other.  
"I see you've met my bride-to-be, Mr. Winchester." Michael commented, his voice dripping with false hospitality. Dean stood, the warmth melting from his face, and he suddenly looked like a very different, more intimidating person than the one he'd just spoken to.  
"Michael." He said in a way of greeting, though he didn't even tried to hide the malice in his tone. "What do you want?"  
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to have a dance with my betrothed. Though it looks like you two were busy, so don't let me interrupt," He hissed, and Castiel stood quickly, realizing his mistake. He walked to the other man's side before looking apologetically at Dean, who continued to glare at Michael.  
"I wouldn't dare stop you, your majesty," he growled, a cold smile playing on his face. As he was lead away, Castiel thought for a moment that he saw the glint of glistening, razor-sharp fangs rather than teeth in the grin, before he was pulled into the heart of the crowd.

For Castiel, the rest of the ball was an uncomfortable blur of dances with strange men who gripped his waist in their sweaty hands and had unnerving smiles, awkward small talk with strangers, and being lead around like a dog on a leash. Michael introduced him to more people than he could count, and he had to smile and be polite when all he wanted to do was get away from there, and maybe punch Michael. He was glad now that he had never had to enjoy the prince's company for long. He was able to manipulate everyone he spoke with into agreeing with him, and Castiel watched from the side as he spoke with many lords and ladies about their alliances, and got them to agree to side with him if a war arose, while masking it as casual conversation. The whole time, he kept a firm grip on the selkie's wrist to keep him from straying, hard enough to leave a mark later. At last, the guests began to leave. Castiel had been hoping to bid Dean goodbye, and only gave up on seeing the king again when Michael ordered him to go to bed. He made his way back up the stairs and down the dark corridor to his bedroom, freezing at a the sound of a floorboard creaking slightly to his right. He turned, his dress spinning with him, only to see a shadow dart away lightning-fast. Unnerved, he hurried the rest of the way to his door, worriedly feeling the newly-formed bruise on his wrist, before nodding to the guard and stepping inside. He let out a breath of relief, lighting his bedside lamp and tugging off his shoes and socks, relaxing as the golden light filled the room. The selkie tensed again as lightning flashed outside his window, and a torrent of rain began falling, growing heavier by the minute. Though he was used to the frequent storms of the ocean, the sound of the thunder and raindrops seemed to drown out all other noise now, challenging even the safety of his bed. He nestled under his covers anyway, grabbing a book from his bedside table in hopes of distracting himself. Castiel was interrupted shortly after, though, by the sound of claws scratching at his door.  
He crept slowly towards the noise, apprehensive of what he would find. He pushed it open, the creak of the hinges seeming to take forever as the door swung back to reveal... a small puppy, looking up at him with big, green eyes. It jumped into his arms, yipping excitedly. He let out a sigh of relief and closed the door once more, sitting down on the bed and giggling as the little dog licked his face. It was a scrappy little thing, with short brown fur, and sharp teeth that looked as though they belonged on something much bigger. He picked it up to get a better look at it, and noticed a deep red darkening the fur around its front paws. He studied it closer, letting out a gasp of horror as he realized what it was. He put the dog down, backing away from it in confusion, and felt something sticky and wet beneath his bare feet. A trail of faint, bloody paw prints lead from the door, trailing to the sweet little puppy on his bed. It gazed up at him, tongue lolling, and he turned and looked back at the door it had come from. He pushed it once more, only to have it bump into something with a dull thunk as it opened wide. Castiel felt a knot twist in his stomach as he stepped out into the pitch-black hallway, the light from his room illuminating the still body of the guard, who lay limp on the floor, blood trickling from a shallow scratch across her cheek. He bent down and placed his fingers on her neck, relieved when he detected a pulse.  
"Don't worry, she'll be fine. I just didn't want anyone listening." A voice said behind him, dangerously smooth. He spun, seeing a dark silhouette framed by his window, the puppy nowhere to be seen. The figure stepped into the light, revealing Dean Winchester, but he no longer looked completely human. His eyes glowed with trailing green light, his teeth were sharpened into glistening fangs, and his clawed hands were dripping with blood. That feeling he'd gotten when they shook hands, the unrestrained power of the ocean, was back now, swirling through the room and leaking out the open door. Though everything in him told him he should be scared, Castiel stepped back into the room and shut the door quietly, pulled in by his curiosity and the call of the sea.  
"Listening to what?" He asked, and Dean seemed to soften, looking more cautious than threatening.  
"I'm here to help you. Selkies can get their skin back if a human says they can, right? Well I can do that," Dean said, and he started past him for the the door, but the selkie grabbed his arm before he could get there.  
"You're not going anywhere until I know what's going on. First of all, you're definitely not human, so how can you help me? Second, what are you? Third, what are you doing here?" He questioned, glaring at the man- well, creature- in front of him. Dean turned and glanced around nervously.  
It's kind if a long story, and there's not much time. Basically, I'm the king of finmen, I know we're supposed to be extinct and all, but that doesn't matter right now. Anyway, if you don't want to be saved, then fine, but make up your mind because I've got to get going. Oh, and I look human enough that my command will let you get your skin, so that's not a problem," Dean explained, looking urgent. Castiel, on the other hand, couldn't believe he hadn't realized what the king was  sooner. As a pup, his favorite stories for his elders to tell had been those of the finfolk: incredibly magical creatures that had a love of silver, the ability to shapeshift into almost anything, power over the weather, and who were known to steal humans away into the watery depths of the ocean. He'd learned that they had all died out so humans could make use of their magick, but here Dean was in front of him, as real as the thunder crashing outside the castle, and obviously no creature he'd encountered before. He took a deep breath, trying to process the information, before deciding that getting out of there was more important than his own understanding.  
    "Someone will notice the guard soon and alert Michael. If we're escaping, we have to do it now," he said, sounding a lot more confident and a lot less confused than he felt. Dean smiled, grabbing his hand and the lantern and pulling him out into the darkness of the corridor.  
Castiel lead the way through the maze of lightless corridors to Michael's room. He'd been shown it specifically because he was never allowed to enter it without permission, but now there was nothing stopping him. The prince was discussing the results of the ball with his advisors in the banquet hall, so they met no one on their way. Dean quickly transformed back into the little dog, and the selkie picked him up before pushing open the ornate door with his foot, leaving the lantern behind. Once inside, he set the puppy on the floor, before rushing to where his trenchcoat had been tossed haphazardly across a chair. He grabbed it, rubbing his face against the familiar, rough fabric. He turned when he heard an anxious bark, only to see Michael glowering in the doorway with Dean in his grasp, guards flanking him on either side as lightning lit the room with white-hot light.  
"What do you think you're doing? You know you aren't allowed to be in here." Castiel caught Dean's eye, and after the puppy winked at him, faced the prince once more, weeks and weeks of pent up anger and resentment bubbling to the surface.  
"Bite me, Michael," He spat, watching as the puppy transformed into a very pissed off, very dangerous magical being. The finmen's eyes were glowing again, and despite their obvious fear, the guards charged at him, weapons raised. It was quickly apparent that this was a terrible idea. Dean clawed and punched and kicked faster than any human could, and, in the confusion, Castiel slipped on his coat over the dress, willed himself to transform, and changed into a chubby, black little seal. He fell onto the ground with a happy bark, the joy of returning to his other form filling his mind. In his excitement, he didn't notice Michael creep up behind him, and was caught off guard when he was lifted back into the air. He wiggled and slapped with his flippers as much as he could, hitting him across the face a few times.  
"Stop moving, you little monster!" The prince hissed, putting his face right in front of Castiel. So the selkie bit him as hard as he could, making the man cry out and drop him with a thunk. Just as soon as he'd hit the floor, he was picked up again by Dean, who'd knocked out most of the guards, and scared away the rest.  
"Dammit, Cas, you'd be a lot more helpful as a human, you know," He cursed, which got an indignant bark from the selkie. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever," He said, before tossing Castiel into the air, changing easily into an enormous wolf, and catching him in his mouth, and breaking completely through the beautiful, but fragile, window that was behind the prince's bed. From his ride to freedom, Castiel got a great view of Michael, who was clutching at his nose and staring after them, mouth open wide in his shock. The view was left behind, though, as Dean's huge strides carried them far away very quickly. In only a few minutes of running through the downpour, they reached some sort of structure, which was obscured from view by rain and darkness. Dean carefully set him on the ground, and he slipped back out of his skin as the finmen transformed into his human form. He clapped his hands, and a light came on outside of the building, which he could now see was a lovely little cabin nestled deep into the forest. Dean stood, rain drenching his hair and dripping down his his body, and Castiel was once again struck by how attractive he was.  
"Dude, when you're a seal, you're adorable," He said at last, and the selkie began laughing.  
"Oh, come on! I'm obviously very intimidating!" He protested, trying to sound mad even through his giggles.  
"Okay, you win," Dean said teasingly, before stepping closer, mouth only inches away from his own. "For what it's worth, I think you're pretty cute either way, Cas," He murmured, and Castiel's breath caught in his throat. Suddenly, he couldn't think of anything but closing the space between them. The wild energy of their escape still rushed through his hands with each rushed beat of his heart, making him brave.  
"I'll forgive the nickname if you kiss me, you asshole," He whispered, and all he saw was the sharp glint of Dean's grin before he was pressed up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, the finmen's lips capturing his own. That rush, the force of the waves crashing against the shore, nearly overwhelmed him at the contact. The kiss was filled with want and power, but also the genuine kindness that had drawn him to Dean. The man nipped carefully at his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth willingly. He wondered briefly if he was doing things right, and was reminded it was his first kiss. It wasn't that he avoided romance on purpose, it had just never been a priority for him. Besides, the spring mating fights, where the selkies fought over the right to mate with someone of their choosing, were vicious and noisy, so he always made to sure to stay far away. But with Dean, he couldn't dream of breaking their kiss, much less never seeing him again. He was distracted by the finmen deepening the kiss, gripping his hair softly and wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer.  He wrapped his arms around his neck in return, feeling as though the world was falling away at the edges. At last, they had to pull apart, and Castiel was left breathless, staring into Dean's eyes, though the rain blurred his vision.  
"Let's get inside, huh?" The king said, and he nodded, grabbing his coat from where it had dropped from his hands. He gave a yelp of surprise when Dean picked him up, strong arms carrying him easily even while in human form.  
"Wouldn't want to ruin your dress, this thing looks like it costs a fortune,"  He said, but Castiel was pretty sure he was just showing off at that point, not that he minded. He let himself be carried into the cabin anyway. It was heated by a roaring fire, and, once the door had been closed, shutting out the rain, it felt as if it was the only place in the world. A little bed was nestled in one corner, a table and a few chairs with some cabinets in the other, and a saggy couch in front of the fireplace, which Dean plopped him down on. Then the Finman went to the fire, tossed another log into it, and blew on the flames, making them send a wave of heat through the room. Castiel, despite his soaked dress, was pleasantly warm, from both the fire and the kiss. Dean settled down next to him, giving that wonderful, lopsided smile.  
"You've got a little something there..." He murmured, lifting his thumb and wiping away a trickle of Michael's blood that had dripped down his chin. Dean's hand remained on his face though, and he leaned into the touch slightly. Castiel stared into his eyes, before hesitantly leaning forward, closing the space between them. The finman seemed to pick up on his nervousness, as he took control, carefully guiding him. The kiss began gentle and cautious, but they seemed to match together perfectly. Soon enough, Castiel found himself pushed against the arm of the couch with Dean perched above him, their breath mingling together in the short distance between their lips. He reached up and pulled Dean back down to him, kissing him deeply and eagerly. The finman caught his wandering hands with one fist, and easily pinned them behind his head, making him gasp lightly.  
"Is this okay?' Dean asked, and he knew right then that he would stop without a second thought if the selkie showed any hesitation. That only made him want to continue even more, to give over his trust to the power of the sea that filled Dean.  
"Of course, Dean," Castiel assured, smiling gently. That was all the King needed, and he lifted the selkie up once more, making him giggle as he was carried to the bed. "You're aware I'm more than capable of walking, right?" he chided.  
"'I know, I know, but I can't help it. You're cute as hell, man, seal or not," Castiel tried to protest, but was cut off by a deep kiss. He gave in and melted into it, letting Dean press him down into the woolen blankets, straddling him. He reveled in the new sensations as Dean's lips left his own, instead ghosting up over his jawbone and to his the shell of his ear. He nibbled gently, and Castiel moaned quietly, then flushed in embarrassment. The finman only chuckled, before nipping and licking his way down Castiel's neck, making the selkie whimper and sigh softly with each reverent touch. Finally, after Dean had paused to suck a deep mark into his collarbone, he stopped at the hem of his dress, glancing up to ask permission with a look. He nodded, and the king lifted up his torso, and began the trying task of undoing the complicated ribbons that laced up his gown. Castiel quickly grew impatient, restless to get more of the strange pleasure Dean drew from him.  
"Dean, please," He implored, running his hands through the man's hair in an attempt to him to continue. The finman cursed quietly, before Castiel felt strong hands ghost up and down his back, and his dress was gone, as well as Dean's own clothes. It made his heart skip a beat, and he felt the flush that painted his face creep across his shoulders as Dean pulled away to take his image in, staring at the thin blue panties that lay beneath. They were obscenely tight around his hardness, the lacy edges pulled around his hips. He remembered, too late, that he may not have been attractive to Dean. He was chubby, and while that was normal for a selkie, what if it repulsed a finman like Dean? He rushed to cover himself back up, but was stopped quickly, his hands caught in tendrils of trailing green magick. The finman was staring down at him, eyes taking in every inch of his tan skin, and the look on his face reminded Castiel of a starved animal being taunted with a meal. On top of that, his eyes were glowing green once more, and thunder cracked outside. It made the pooled heat inside of the selkie coil tightly, and his insecurities were forgotten immediately.  
"God, Cas..." the king trailed off, sounding almost overwhelmed. "You're so cute, and hot, and beautiful, and sexy," He murmured, running his hands up and down his tummy and to grip his thighs, pulling them apart teasingly slow. The selkie tossed his head back with a yell when the finman lapped gently at the head of his cock where it stuck out from his panties, looking up at him the whole time. Even beyond the new, overwhelming pleasure, the power of the sea still rolled off of Dean and into him, making his heart race and his head spin. It grew even stronger when Dean pushed the hem of his panties down, letting his cock spring free, and took it in his mouth, careful to avoid his sharp teeth. Cas cried out when he licked over the slit at the tip, moaning breathlessly as the king took more of him, before pulling back with a pop. Soon, he was lost in the pleasure, keening and gasping at the rush of each new sensation, as the heat of his orgasm built and built. Finally, when he looked down to see Dean watching him like he was the answer to every question that had ever been asked, he couldn't resist the pleasure any longer. He came with a yell, the force of it leaving him breathless. The finman sat back, gazing down at him adoringly, as he came down slowly.  
"You alright?" Dean asked, and he nodded. He wanted to voice the emotions that swirled through him, all of the safety, and comfort, and home that Dean brought him, but he found that he was too breathless to speak more than just a few words.  
"Thank you, Dean. For everything," Castiel managed at last, reaching up to pull Dean into a lazy kiss. It was easy and languid, but just as wonderful as the heated kisses they'd shared before. When they broke apart, Dean leaned down and kissed each knuckle of his hand adoringly, and suddenly the selkie was compelled to talk, to speak all of the growing insecurities he'd developed while living as a human, to let Dean put them to rest.  
"I-I was worried you wouldn't like how I look," he admitted, rushing on before the king could answer. "I know that humans think that being skinny is the most attractive, and I didn't know how finfolk saw beauty. So thank you for accepting me," Castiel waited for Dean to laugh at him, or tease him, but instead, he kissed his forehead gently, and smiled down at him.  
"Cas, I've spent more time around humans than most, and I've learned one thing: a lot of what they do doesn't make sense. They make up rules for no reason, and get mad when people point out how ridiculous they are. They walk around like they rule the world, and then they ruin it. And hey, for what it's worth, I think you're very attractive," Dean said, and Castiel pulled him down into another kiss, trying to say how thankful he was for Dean's kindness without using words. The king responded easily, pulling him close and kissing him hard. They fell against one another, and the selkie's arousal returned quickly. The king's hands trailed down to his hips and tugged on the hem of the panties, slowly dragging them down all the way. Castiel gasped quietly as his fingers crept lower and teased at his hole, circling and pressing gently. Dean paused, and his fingers were suddenly coated with some sort of oil, making it easy to press one digit just barely inside. He soothed Castiel with gentle kisses and licks to his stirring hardness as he adjusted to the slight pain. After a while of careful stretching, he added a second finger,  scissoring and twisting them just right, and hit something deep inside of him that made pleasure course up and down his body. Castiel let out a breathless moan, and Dean smirked above him. He continued to hit that spot, just enough to get the selkie worked up while still stretching his tight hole.  
"Dean, please, I want you, I need-" he began, but his words were cut off with a shout of frustration as Dean slipped his fingers out. The man just chuckled, leaning back slightly, and suddenly, his hole was loose and open.  
"Don't want to hurt you, Cas. Are you sure you're ready?" He asked, and the selkie nodded urgently. He trusted Dean. The king lined himself and finally pushed into him, pausing occasionally to let Castiel adjust before he bottomed out. He huffed out a breath, letting himself get used to it, focusing as much as he could on the glow of Dean's eyes, on the pull of the sea, on the way that they seemed to be the only ones in the whole world. Once he was ready,  Cas lifted his hands and grabbed at Dean's muscled back, urging him forward. He rocked into him, thrusting deeply and pushing him down into the mattress. With every thrust, the selkie cried out, reveling in the feeling of the man inside of him. It felt, so, so good, and he found himself babbling for Dean to continue, to go harder, faster. He obliged, clawed hands gripping his hips and holding him in place. Castiel rose to the edge again quickly, moaning and mewling as Dean struck that spot inside of him. The finmen only increased his pace, panting in his ear how good he felt, how hot he was, how great he was. The sounds of their gasping breaths and cries of pleasure filled the cabin, and Dean became the sole focus of Castiel's world.  Just as he was about come, Dean leaned forward, eyes glowing like a thousand stars, and kissed him so gently, a startling contrast to the harsh force of his thrusts. That pushed him over the edge, and he screamed with the force of his orgasm, clenching around the man's cock. Dean thrusted a few final times before he came as well, filling the selkie. He curled around Castiel, who was staring blankly at the ceiling, breathless.  
After a few minutes of peaceful silence, the king stood up, walked to the kitchen, and returned with a glass of water for them to share. Cas managed a few sips, his breath eventually returning to a normal rate. Dean pulled the blankets over them, wrapping his arms around him, and he felt incredibly safe.  
"It seems like we have more than enough time, so would you like to tell me the long story of how finfolk are suddenly not extinct? It seems impossible," the selkie asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Dean laughed softly, turning his head to face him.  
"Well, If you'd asked me a year ago, I would have said it was impossible too. The truth is, I was born a merperson. There was an old hag who lived in a shack right near the shore where me and my brother grew up, and we were always warned to stay away from her. Me and some of my friend's didn't listen. The hag turned out to be an old finwife who'd grown ugly without a mortal husband, but she had passed for human well enough to survive. She didn't want her kind to die out, so she cursed us into becoming finfolk. We eventually found finfolkaheem, the old underwater kingdom. It took a while, but we kind of got things under control. I was assigned to be king, for some reason. Since there are so few of us, we decided to let the merpeople move into the kingdom, too. It's going pretty well, except for one thing, which is why I wanted to come help you in the first place. The hag wanted us to repopulate and stuff, but there's only me, Benny, Garth, Ash, Charlie, and Jo. Charlie and Jo are pretty much family, so they're out of the question. And, well, because selkies and finfolk are pretty similar, I figured, if we could get on good enough terms, I could ask if some of them could help with, y'know, repopulating. And, hey, what better way to make a good impression than to rescue you from the prince?" Dean explained, turning slightly red.  
"Wow, that's a lot to take in," Cas murmured, thinking. "My herd will certainly be thankful for my return, and our leaders would not be opposed to helping you out," he said, and silence fell between them for a moment.  
"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked after a moment, his voice slightly strained.  
"Yes?"  
"D'you think, after all this... you'd want to see me again? I mean, I totally get it if you don't, we barely know each other, but just in case you do-" the king asked nervously, the flush on his cheeks deepening.  
"Of course I do," he said, cutting the other man off. "I may not have known you for long, but I like you. I'd love to see your kingdom and your family, and get to know you better. Thank you, Dean," He said, and the man next to him let out a relieved sigh. The king pulled him even closer, and Castiel relaxed, feeling a heavy tiredness settle over him. The selkie fell asleep curled up against Dean's chest, the rhythm of his breath becoming the crash of waves as he dreamed of the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly the result of me missing the ocean, so yeah. If you enjoyed, please leave a comment, and have a great day!


End file.
